Mohunk Mountain House--NY

845.765.3286

When I heard about this place I figured we'd take a nice, rustic, quiet weekend at what looked to be a hidden gem of a family friendly trip.  Then after scant research, I realized that there's no way we could afford $1,100 a room.

So, we opted to piss away slightly less money and drag our two small children up to the most expensive buffet lunch in history.  After getting passed the front gate--and the only way to prevent people from avoiding the food and beverage extortion, you take a very scenic drive up a windy mount road to a staggering reveal of the house.   And given that introduction, I started to wonder if the price was worth it.

The place was clean, but refurbished twenty years ago.  Upon scrutiny, the cheesy faux-rustic creeps out but is not remotely cool, as though it was a deluxe Marriot with zero soul or genuineness. This poorly outfitted retro only advertised the fact that it was clearly a money maker--an inauthentic rustic vibe fabricated to fool the masses.  There were day time conferences, bachelor parties, and the unmistakable garb and odor of European travelers all duped by the views.

The lunch was laughable.  Similar to the decor, the buffet looked just a touch antiquated and the food had a stale and un-fresh quality; barely over the bar set by school cafeterias.  If I were paying, say, $15 a head for this buffet, I'd be content with the views and crappy volley ball courts.  But you're there for the pristine quality of the lake and hiking, that's what your paying for not the hotel or the food, and in that regard I'm not sure the views are worth it.

Virgina

Had a whirlwind tour with the ol' wifey wife.  I don't think I've ever done a post about the lover's state, so better late than never.

Virginia Beach:

Cavalier Club:
757.428.3131

As this is a private club, not sure you're gonna be too interested beloved eight.  Unless, of course, you're a retired Jew!  The food and service are exactly what you expect from a club--sub par.  The reason being, is any serious cook/waiter/chef, is at a real place working for cash or at the very least a higher hourly rate.

Great golf course though.

Croakers:
757.363.2490

Now here's a really legit shit-hole crab shack.  Low frills.  Mis-matched furniture several decades old.  And a bunch of bloated, tan regulars parking their full-sized pick up trucks to saddle up and drink cold bottles of whatever domestic piss water they prefer.

The food was basically a vessel for drawn butter.  Plenty of Old Bay and lemon kicking around.  Not a bad place, not a culinary epiphany.

Richmond:

Jefferson Hotel:
888.918.1895

Now we're talking.  Let's go 180 degrees the opposite direction from Croakers to the prim and stuffy Southern Jefferson Hotel.  Talk about swanky, this place left no amenity un-turned.  Fuck a bitch.  I mean they had video in the mirrors.  A great pool.  Turn down service.  And the robes, like being draped in a plush shroud of Turin.

Iconman, who cares, how was the food?  The food?  We had brunch and it was brunchy.  The service and quality were commensurate with everything other gilded aspect of this place.

821:
804.649.1042

Welcome to Hipster Richmond.  Quite a departure from the swankiness of the Jerfferson this place was comfort food royale.  I had a chicken salad sandwich with cumin, my wife had a great burger, and my little one rocked a grilled cheese.  The server was mindful of kids, and there was a cool, laid back vibe to this place.

The Roosevelt:
804.658.1935

It helps knowing the executive chef.  And considering that, we basically tried everything on the menu.  And everything was great.  I mean everything.  Great.  Fuck an A man, I'd be hard pressed to find a place in New York that had such a consistent menagerie of unique dishes.  Maybe Diner.  Maybe.  In fact, I'd gander outside of NY and Europe, this place is the best meal I've had.

If you're in Richmond, and looking for a place to eat.  This should be your only selection.

Tim Ho Wan--Manhattan

212.228.2800

Went there after a very long walk across town because of its acclaim.  I mean, a cheap Michelin star?  Why the fuck not?  And like every other sucker that walked in expecting a culinary epiphany, I got so caught up in the idea of something, it blinded me to common sense.

When we arrived we noticed right of the bat that this is a legitimate dumpling place, in that is was packed with Asians, slurping down dumplings with their chopsticks only they way they can.  I've got nothing against Asians, but will say their adeptness with chopstick is a sight to behold.  They almost use them like a spoon.

Iconman, who cares about how Asian eating implements?  How was the food?  Well, we waited a while and eventually sat down at the bar.  Having walked as far as we did, we were quick to order beer first which annoyed the shit out of the dumpling man as he's there to serve dumplings not beer for the white man.   Still intoxicated by the buzz, and the seemingly authentic legitimacy, I'm still patient with what looks to be a total shit hole.

 The menu is very seafood heavy, and my companion doesn't eat fish or shellfish.  So our specialized order dodged more than half the menu.  The food?  Slimy in a word.  Tasty, but there was a wet noodleness to these suckers that I'd never experienced before.  It's sort of the difference from eating Americanized Shun Lee dumplings your whole life, and then getting the real deal.  Or, perhaps eating Olive Garden and then eating true Italian.  Maybe I need to acquire the taste, I don't know.  In the end though, I thought it was gross.  And the shitty service, lackluster decor, and brisk hurried nature didn't help its cause.

21 Club--Manhattan

212.582.7200

What to say beloved eight?  Yes, no longer nine, now eight.  Not sure who dropped out, but good riddance.  Eight's a better number for me anyway.  More denominators. First cubed number out there.

So I finally saddled up to the most over priced steak dinner in all of the land.  And it did not disappoint.  I expected a full-fledged Lugering, but surprisingly enough this place had an air of legitimacy.  Food wise, it was well-prepared.  Price was to be expected (not on my dime, thankfully). What I found most interesting, however, was the Sommelier.

Pray-tell Iconman, what is so interesting about a guy walking around with a sippy-spoon trying other people's wine?  Well, beloved eight, aside from the ridiculousness of the pomp and circumstance, I feel that this Sommelier' entire approach is completely misdirected.

Allow me a brief explanation.  To have a knowledge of wine to where you recognize the different flavors, palates, what-have-you--"earthy," "grassy," etc... I feel you must have an above average knowledge of wine.  That is, you know a California Red is gonna be this, or a Burgundy is gonna be that, and for the most part you have a handle on regions as they relate to expectations  Wait, let me walk that back.  I mean to a certain degree, 50% of the people on the planet that like wine enough to know what they like and will have inadvertently educated themselves enough to open up a wine list and see Burgundy and say to themselves--"Hey, I like burgundy.  I'll try some."

Enter Sommelier.  In my experience every Somm's MO is to saunter up to the table, while someone is thumbing through a forty page wine list, and ask what everyone is thinking.  And here's the rub.  I'm thinking, I can afford X, and therefore want the best possible wine for that price.  I'm less concerned with earthiness, texture, label, or what you think I may like,  and since I have someone at the table perfectly willing to pay several hundred dollars for wine, I don't want you to guess my opinion, I want your opinion.  You're the fucking expert.  Give me the best value for what pairs with what I am  eating at the exact price that I can afford.

What do I get?  "I have an interesting such and such..." and then the inevitably steer you to a place outside of your price range, to a wine that hasn't moved in ten years and they're just happy to ditch it on some schmuck that knows nothing about wine. Like me.  And of course since it's $400 I'm not about to send it back and have to enjoy it in an emperor-wears-no-clothes sort of way.

Even as I write this I realize that there are probably a million Somm's out there that are going to roll their eyes and tell me I get what I deserve.  They're not wrong.  But I maintain that it's not as though there's a specialized beef taster to give you the perfect cut of meat.  Or a spirit taster.  And that's because wine so infinitesimally more complex.  Which is my point.  Somms should help you navigate that, not complicate it by asking a novice what they like.  You might as well as ask a 4th grader to do calculus.  Maybe if I knew more about the subject, I'd be less of an idiot.  And that's a big maybe.

Cosme--Manhattan

212.913.9659

Evidently this is one of the best restaurants in the world.  I learned that at the time of dining, so didn't come in with that expectation.  Considering  we were a large party, it's tough to say.  It was delicious no doubt but to be honest I'm not sure what we had, as it was family style service, but everything seemed to be spot on so I won't get to into specifics.  There were some great mexican Pizza style salads. Nice shrimp.  Hot sauce.  What do you want from me, it's not like this is a food blog.

Truth be told, my only interest in this post is a testament to my fuzzy memory.  Being a somewhat industry dinner, with several bartenders present, everyone dove into their specialty cocktail menu.  Everyone, that is, but me.  I'm a margarita guy, and at a restaurant of this caliber, spare me your gold rush margarita or your hibiscus margarita or your truffle margarita.  A margarita is Lime, Tequila, and Cointreau.  And that's what I rolled with, much to the cat calls and teasing of my fellow diners.

I enjoyed slurping down my drink (and at this place we ordered a freshy upon delivery--yes it took that long) and watching each of my compatriots jump onto my bandwagon one by one until we were all drinking the only version worth drinking--the orignal.  So what's my point?  I'm a genius and a trendsetter and clearly smarter than everyone else.

Good place.  Good Margarita.  Good food.  Best in the world?  Who am I to say?

Elmo--Manhattan

212-337-8000

So what do you get when you google "gayest restaurant in Manhattan?"  Of course that's a rhetorical question.  Went here with the four horsemen of yesteryear for our semi-annual trip. As it was my turn to pick, I figured that I'd test the inner homophobe of my companions and check out this Chelsea haunt.

It was pretty gay.  I don't mean that in any sort of pejorative sense, it was a gay restaurant.  In that, there were many gay people there.  There were also many straight people there.  So, it could be argued that it was in a gay neighborhood, and therefore by default there were gay people there.  That is until I snuck a peak in the downstairs lounge.  It was like a pick up bar for gay dudes designed by Freddy Mercury and MC'd by Elton John.  Gay.  Super Gay.  Not bad, but if I were to go to a Vietnamese lounge, and see a bunch of Vietnamese people, I'd probably have a similar, banal description.

Iconman, who fucking cares?  How was the food?  You can't say it was gay cuisine, can you?  Nope.  It was comfort food.  It covered its bases with some international twists, tacos and Asian glazed fish, somewhat uninspired but passable. I'd give it a solid B.  I was too busy watching my friend squirm and slogging down gin martini's to really think about the cuisine.  This is definitely a place to take your out-of-town, fly-over state relative to give him a taste of the far-left.  Sort of an anecdote to Trump country.  If your friend is a man, and particularly uncomfortable, take him down to the lounge for shits and giggles.

Sauvage--Brooklyn

718.486.6816

Actually ate here a while ago, but this somehow got buried in my notes.  This place used to be called Lokal, same ownership of My Moon, and the neighborhood promptly dubbed it the place to go if you can't get a seat at 5-leaves.  Too bad for those guys, but I'm sure they cleaned up on the real estate deal.

Sauvage, however, may shake that reputation given their even more impressive hipster chops with Maison Premiere (the costume themed speak easy down in Williamsburg).  They didn't go that direction, however, opting for a cleaner french cafe inspired attire instead.  I must say, beautiful bar, and at the time my notes say beautiful people watching--though at the time this came from someone deprived of the talent that walks the city on any given day.

I digress, the food?  I'm sick of marble bars.  Shit.  Sorry just referring to the notes.  They clearly dumped a ton of money in the place.  The fixtures are beautiful.  Really, the place is so well done.  Damn, look at that set of wheels.  Damn it Iconman, what is going on here?

The food was fine.  I had a steak and a few hors d'ouevres at the bar.  It was a touch pricey, but overall acceptable given the quality. Maybe a touch over thought, but you've got to do something to be different. I imagine the menu to change from time to time, so don't go trusting me.

And I bet this place is slamming on the weekends though, much to 5-leaves chagrin.

Gramercy Tavern--NYC--Again

212.477.0777

Beloved nine.  Where do I begin?  My Triumphant return to the city?  My rightful place as a GM? The rash that finally cleared up?

And what better way to commemorate my resumed schedule of consistent, informative reviews than starting with one long over due:  Gramercy Tavern!  Goodness gracious, so much to say, so much to say.  Firstly, when glancing at the menu, yes those prices are inflated.  Fret not! You're not supposed to tip.  That's right, salaried, normal waiters.  For years I've lamented how the service industry eats a shit sandwich, and how being a waiter is somehow associated with a non-committal stepping stone towards a "respectable" career.  As though making thousands a week with a flexible schedule is somehow reserved for schmucks.  Who's the schmuck now?  Who?

I went here with the second wife and her husband, for a delectable meal of overtly sophisticated fair.  The food?  Just fine.  There's a lot going on with the menu, which I presume changes from time to time.  Asian?  Pork Dumplings in a broth.  Italian?  Flatbread appetizer.  Steaks/Chops vibe?  Oysters in the half shell.  American cuisine?  Artic Char.  Herpes?  It cleared up people!  Dear God on and on with the herpes.  Nonetheless, the food is exactly what you'd expect from an establishment this, well, established though I for one would like to know what type of fare I'm eating.

More surprising was the light-footed happy-go-lucky waitstaff, waltzing around the dining room with a gait that I could only describe as vindicated.  What a perfect compliment to coming back in the city.  It's as though they knew I was coming....

But wait a minute Iconman!  You reviewed this place already you dumb hack!  How could you double dip like that?  To be honest, beloved nine, I completely forgot.  And to be fair to myself, I must say that I still didn't shit myself on the cuisine.  I do applaud Meyer for taking the plunge on the waitstaff, so consider this an update of sorts.